Exercising Demons Zine, Issue Two And A Review Of Issue One

In case you missed it, and you would have had to unless you were at the Tulsa Zine Fest two months ago,  issue two of my zine Exercising Demons is out. The only way to get it is from me or at Holy Mountain here in Tulsa at the extra low, low price of FREE! You heard me right. At some point I'll get around to dropping a few copies off at other places like Boulevard Trash. Eventually.

Yeah I was so focused on getting it ready in time for the zine fest that I forgot to announce it on here. There's lots of cool true stuff in this one plus a fiction piece and it's grown too. Twenty whole pages this go around and I did the artwork. I haven't drawn in over twenty years and it shows. These first few issues are teaching me important lessons about what to do (and not do in some cases) while I try and find my focus for the zine. Issue three is now in the planning stage, I just need to decide what stories I'm actually going to write or re-write in some cases..

Also, I sent issue one to the fine folks at Razorcake (zine, website, record label and more) to be reviewed and they did so online. You can follow the link to give them some traffic for their website by clicking here or look below where I've copied and pasted it. Do both, it only takes a few minutes. I pretty much agree with what Kurt says too for what it's worth. He knows what he's talking about.

EXERCISING DEMONS #1 trade/2 stamps, 5 ½” x 8 ½”, copied, 8 pgs. By Kurt Morris Monday, July 27 2015 This is a short zine with some personal accounts of family as well as some lyrics/poetry. While poetry has never done much for me, I felt like I was being teased with the personal material. There are foundations for some great longer pieces in this material. Don mentions offhandedly his time in the military in places like Germany and Saudi Arabia—there are probably some cool stories there. He also mentions moving around a lot and ponders why we say we’re “from” some place even when we haven’t lived there for years, which would be an interesting thought to explore further. There is also a piece on his father’s eight (?!) wives. I would’ve loved to hear more about that! For a first issue, this shows a lot of promise. Some more extrapolating would’ve been great. Don seems unsure with what he’s doing in Exercising Demons, but I would encourage him to keep going. There’s some good potential here.-Kurt Morris (Don Leach, 1546 S. 79th E. Ave., Tulsa, OK 74112, notmovingpictures@gmail.com)

Written and Published by Don Leach. May not be used without permission from the author.

The Day, part 1, An Original Story

                                                                                                                                            November 16

Everyone left has a name for the day when the world as we knew it ended and never would be the same. Some call it the change, others refer to it as z day or even zero day. Me? I simply call it the day. Not many people throughout history can say they saw the clear demarcated line of when such a drastic transformation of society occurred, regardless of the country or continent you were on. Us survivors can though. Been there, done that and it’s nothing to brag about.

The thing is though, where I was when it all went down. Somehow I ended up in Lima, Peru when they took over, a very foreign place compared to my small town Oklahoma upbringing. How did I end up here? Chasing a girl that’s how. Anna Maria was in Tulsa on a temporary work visa when I met her. She was beautiful and fun and exotic and I convinced myself that I was in love with her. So when her time was up and she returned to Peru I decided that she was the one and the only thing I could do was to follow her.

There I was, fresh off the airplane in a foreign country where I barely spoke the language and the culture was so incredibly different from the one I was raised in. I was out of my depth, my element, but none of that mattered. I was here for love and nothing else mattered dammit. Once Anna Maria saw me the rest of the details would fall into place. I mean, she’d have to be flattered right? A gringo like me following her all these miles, sorry, kilometers. would break through any doubts she could have. Or so I thought.

The thing is I had blinded myself to reality. Anna Maria did not return my feelings which clearly weren’t love no matter how much I tried to believe it to be true. When I showed up at her house she was shocked but not in a good way. She admitted that while she had fun with me in the States she didn’t have any feelings for me at all. As a matter of fact she had a fiancé that she intended to marry and he was inside the house right then. For my personal safety she advised me to vaminos before he caught wind to my presence.

Heartbroken I retreated to the hostel I had spent the night in and there several fellow travelers helped console me by giving me large and copious amounts of alcohol, not that it was a good thing. I paid for it dearly later both physically and emotionally. When I had left home I had sold my car and pretty much everything else I owned and had left the lease on my house early incurring the loss of my deposit and the wrath of my landlord. She blessed me with many interesting curses as well as threats of a lawsuit. Who could care though? I was leaving the country for good.

None of that stuff mattered. I was in love. Except that I really wasn’t. I just thought I was. Now that my foolishness had been painfully shattered I was at a complete loss about what to do with my life. With my leaving as quickly as I did and not thinking things through I realized that I had no plan for how to make a living or how get things done in this foreign land. Like I said, I barely spoke the damn language. Could I even go back home to the shame and ridicule I would surely be showered with from friends, family and enemies alike?

I’m far too stubborn for that so leaving was not an option. I’d just have to make the best of the situation. Surely there was some way I could earn some money regularly so that I could feed and house myself. It couldn’t be that hard could it? Well, yes it could as it turned out. The next two weeks were a constant struggle for me. The food was like nothing I was used to. Anytime somebody spoke English I latched onto them like a drowning man to a life jacket. In short, I was rather pathetic. At least until I met Carsten, a fellow expat, albeit one from a different country. He was from Denmark but spoke excellent English.

Carsten took pity on me and decided to show me the ropes of Peru. I met him one day in Barranco as I stumbled around trying to find a restaurant I could feel comfortable eating in. Over the next few days we would meet up for lunch and he would inform me about things that were important to see like Pachacamac. We talked of local customs and how not to offend Peruvians through either negligence or accident. Carsten even helped me find a room to rent for an affordable price and then gave me some leads on where I could teach English.

Things were definitely looking up for me though I was heartbroken and overwhelmed. Well, at least they were until the day happened that is. After that nothing was looking up for anybody least of all me. I’d best stop for now. Soon night will fall and though we still have electricity we don’t dare use it. Noise and light will only draw them to us and that is something no survivor wants to happen. I’ll continue when I have a chance. There’s a lot of work to be done during the daylight hours. We have to scavenge food, water, medical supplies and anything else we think can be used. I think it’s necessary to document our days though. Perhaps in the future it could help someone. At least I can dream of that.

Written and Published by Don Leach. May not be used without permission from the author.

The Story That Became A Story

Previously I had written a fictional story and placed it here on my blog. Several people had read it and enjoyed it. In an effort to gain more readers for the blog I decided to submit the story to a blog of English speaking writers based in Peru. My thinking was that perhaps I could expose my writing to more people and gain some constructive criticism that would help improve the story. I did this on a whim and didn't really read the kind of stories that they wrote which would have helped me in the long run.

When I received the criticism from three of the writers I was stunned at what they said. As a matter of fact, I had trouble getting through the volumes of notes that they left because of how angry it made me. Then I had to sit back and think about why I was so angry when reading their comments. Was it just because it was criticism? Was that what I was bristling about? It was not, after all I was expecting some criticism, just not that massive volume that came. Was it because I thought that my story wasn't so good after all? Perhaps I didn't feel my story was good enough? No, none of those things were what I was feeling.

Ultimately I came to the conclusion that it was because not only did they not "get" where I was coming from but that they seemed to want me to write it the way that they would have. I know my writing style isn't very classical or even common but everybody has their own way of writing and mine is what it is. It's not my place to say if another person's style is good or not, after all it's theirs not mine. Their notes were laden with comments about what they would like in the story, more dialogue, less big words, more about the mother and basically at the end for me to wrap it all up in a nice neat package that explained everything to them.

What they missed was the idea that this was about a man remembering a time when he was young that totally changed what he thought he knew about his life. It was perhaps the very first time that he looked at what went on around him without blinders covering his vision. It was about him starting to realize that there was a lot bigger picture than he could ever have conceived. It was not supposed to answer all of the questions, instead it was supposed to make you question the assumptions you had made when reading the story. It was simply dropping the reader in the middle of a small piece of this persons life without giving a back story. The idea is to challenge the reader to keep up and come up with your own ideas for what had gone on in the boy/mans life.

In the future I'm going to have to do some research and make my choices better when sending anything I've written out to be criticized. After all, you wouldn't want a romance author telling you what's wrong with a sci-fi story would you? I also plan on sifting through the large amount of notes and eliminating the comments about how they wanted it and instead look for those that can actually improve my story. There are some in there and I just need to go through and draw them out. Then I'll bring the story back in it's new and (hopefully) improved state. It will have to be soon however because there is a writing competition coming up in about two months and I'd like to submit my story, if it's ready. That's a big if.

Written and Published by Don Leach. May not be used without permission from the author.